


Masks

by Python07



Series: If Looks Could Kill [14]
Category: Forever (TV), The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: AU, Angst, Aurelian the assassin, Crack Crossover, M/M, Minor Character Death, spoilers for ep 2.4: Emilie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-12 01:05:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7914412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Python07/pseuds/Python07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aurelian wears many masks and shifts between them seamlessly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Masks

**Author's Note:**

> Dialogue borrowed from ep 2.4: Emilie marked w/*

A bag of gold and the tenement owner left Gemma’s apartment untouched. Aurelian had just enough time to go there and change from his priest’s robes to indistinct peasant’s clothes. He slipped back out into the stream of humanity.

His whole manner changed. Where the priest walked tall, but not proud, and had a kindly glance for everyone, where Gemma’s lover had a grin, a coin, and a joke for all the neighborhood denizens, this current persona slipped onto a different plain. As he walked among the citizens of Paris, he merged with them. There was nothing noteworthy about him. He didn’t keep his head down but he didn’t make eye contact either. He slipped by them without leaving an imprint, almost a ghost. He could’ve been anyone’s father, brother, or son. 

Aurelian was almost impressed with the way she melted into the shadows. Her talent was superb for one with the experience of only one lifetime. However, his practiced eye still picked her out immediately amidst those normal people going about their business at the market stalls.

He crept up behind her without a sound. He smoothly grabbed her arm and stuck the point of his dagger into her lower back. “Softly,” he whispered.

She tensed and inhaled sharply. Other than that, she didn’t make a sound. She didn’t turn her head.

He urged her along. “Let’s take a walk.”

“I could scream,” she whispered.

He leaned in close to her. “A flick of the wrist and you’ll be dead before you hit the ground.”

“Very well.”

He led her into a shaded alcove out of sight. The sounds of the market dulled. Suddenly, they were the only two people in the world.

He turned her around and pushed her back against the wall. He held the blade to her throat. She arched into him and offered a sultry smile. “I like it rough.”

He let her push the blade away. He arched an eyebrow. “I can see that you do.”

She tried to rub against him. She licked her lips wantonly. “Yes.” She put a hand on his chest and the other trailed along his arm. “I need it hard. Can you satisfy me?”

He would’ve laughed at her heavy-handed attempt to seduce him if he had the time. He smirked (okay, he had a little time). “Is this really the famed Milady de Winter? Surely, you can do better than this.”

The playful flirtation evaporated and she was hard and cold, still pressed intimately against him. “Normally, I would, but I am pressed for time. I have an appointment to keep.”

“I’m afraid you won’t be keeping it.” Aurelian leaned in close to laugh contemptuously in her ear. “Cardinal Richelieu’s feared assassin. I believe you’re slipping, my dear. He would be most disappointed.”

Milady’s eyes glittered with malice. “You can give him my compliments when you see him in hell.”

He didn’t react to his blade in her hand, pressed to his stomach. He kept his gaze on her face. He grinned, all teeth.

She grinned back madly. “Perhaps, I could’ve been more subtle, but you’re still a man, easily distracted.”

“Didn’t the Cardinal warn you that overconfidence would be your undoing?”

She started shaking as the tremors took hold. She dropped the knife. She looked at him with wide eyes.

He took her hand and raised it for her to see in the dim light. The scratch on the outside of her hand was bright red. “While you were so busy thinking that you stole my blade, I relieved you of your poison pin. I admit to being curious. I wanted to see what poison you chose.”

She started choking. There was blood on her lips. The tremors grew worse.

“Please, believe me when I say that you are a true artist, but I can’t let you report back to Rochefort about me.” He kissed her palm. “If it’s any comfort to you, he won’t be around much longer either.” 

With that, he stepped back. He looked her up and down. “Nice choice. Fast acting and lethal.” He watched her slide to the floor. “I know the pain is intense but it burns out quickly.”

She opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out but choked whimpers. Her body twisted. She convulsed for a few moments before she fell still.

He looked down into her staring, unseeing eyes. He crouched down to retrieve his dagger. He didn’t bother closing her eyes. 

Aurelian smoothly straightened. Then, he turned on his heel and walked away with even strides. He went back to Milady’s vantage point of the market. As he’d admitted, she had talent and it really was the best place to wait.

He got back just in time to see Treville and his musketeers leading Perales through the market. He put his head down to keep the brim of his hat shielding his face. He stepped into the stream of people. He bumped into Perales and kept going.

He didn’t stop when he heard d’Artagnan shouting, “Captain, stop! Get back, it’s a trap!*”

Aurelian didn’t look back to see Perales’ death scene. The shouts of dismay were enough to know that it was convincing. He only hoped the musketeers didn’t make a mess of their role in hiding Perales. The lot of them were as subtle as a blunt instrument to the head.

He returned to Gemma’s apartment to wash up and change back into his priest’s robes. He quickly made his way back to the Louvre and rumors of Perales’ death were already flying through the halls.

“Ah, Father, you’re back,” an oily voice said.

Aurelian put on his best bland expression. He turned and inclined his head to Rochefort. “Comte Rochefort.”

Rochefort smiled politely but it didn’t reach his eyes. “It is well you have returned. His Majesty requires our presence.”

“I’m am at the King’s service,” Aurelian replied dutifully and fell into step beside Rochefort.

“Have you heard what’s happened?” Rochefort asked briskly.

“Only wild rumors that Ambassador Perales has been assassinated.”

“I’m afraid the rumors are true. He was poisoned.”

Aurelian crossed himself in dismay. “May God have mercy on his soul.”

One end of Rochefort’s mouth quirked up in a cruel parody of amusement. “And God help the musketeers. He was under their protection.”

When they walked into the private room, King Louis, Queen Anne, Captain Treville, and Athos were already there. Athos stood off to the side and Anne was by the far wall, both out of the way while Louis paced in agitation around Treville. Louis caught sight of them and waved them in impatiently.

“How could this have happened?” Louis demanded of Treville. He came to stand in front of Treville. He was red in the face and the vein in his forehead throbbed at an alarming rate. He stomped his foot like a child having a tantrum. “I shall be forced to grovel to King Philip in the most demeaning way!*

Aurelian kept out of Louis’ circle of movement while Rochefort moved in close. He wanted to roll his eyes at Louis’ display of temper and Treville’s stoic acceptance. There were reasons that Treville lost his standing. Some of it was Rochefort but the rest was his meek acceptance of the King’s mercurial moods. Louis needed a strong hand. Hadn’t Treville learned anything from Lucius?

“Why wasn’t Perales protected?*” Louis shouted.

“The question is, Your Majesty, who killed him?” Rochefort interjected smoothly. “Who stood to gain. There is one obvious suspect.*”

Anne spoke for the first time. “Emilie?*”

“She wants to kill every Spaniard she can lay her hands on,” Rochefort answered in cold reason. “Who better to start with than Perales?*”

Emilie, the self styled prophet, was a good scapegoat Aurelian had to admit. She was a much more believable assassin in Louis’ eyes than his dear Rochefort. Too bad it wasn’t the time. There was no proof against Rochefort. Yet. And at least Treville was keeping his mouth shut about that.

“Rochefort is right,” Louis agreed wholeheartedly. “It must be that damned girl. Arrest her.*”

“Emilie is not capable of such a conspiracy,” Anne pointed out with quiet assurance. “It is not in her nature.*”

Aurelian arched an eyebrow. How was she so sure? There was something else he needed to find out.

“With respect, how can you possibly know that?*” Rochefort asked.

Treville briefly glanced at Aurelian before he addressed the King. “Your Majesty, we should look more deeply into this,*” he said gravely. 

Louis threw his hands up and yelled, “Is anyone here but Rochefort willing to do what their King wants?”

Louis stomped off. “Sextus!” he called.

Aurelian hated being called like a dog. However, his placid expression didn’t change. He hurried after the King. “I’m here, Sire.”

Louis waved Anne away in agitation. He led the way to his private study. “Close the door.”

Aurelian did so. He was still while Louis paced. He kept a polite, attentive mask. //Lucius, I don’t know how you managed it. He’s an imbecile.//

Louis threw himself down into a chair. “It’s awful, Sextus.”

“I know. Ambassador Perales was a good man, a peaceful man.”

“He was a pretentious oaf,” Louis sneered. “And thanks to him, I will have to debase myself before King Philip and Spain.”

“With all due respect, Your Majesty, I doubt he meant to get assassinated,” Aurelian replied dryly.

“All the same, he’s dead and I have a civil uprising on my hands.” Louis jumped to his feet again. He flapped his hands. “This Emilie of Duras. She’s raised a peasant army.”

“Sire,” Aurelian said carefully. “Perhaps you should meet with her. That’s all she and her rabble want. A few soft words and she’d be on her way.”

Louis stopped. He straightened up to his full height. His voice shook. “How dare you suggest such a thing,” he snapped.

Aurelian didn’t react to the display of temper. He was as mild and placid as ever. “Forgive me. I do not see how she could have orchestrated such a thing.”

Louis stopped displaying like a cat with its back up. He frowned in thought.

“Her mobs have been causing disturbances in the city, yes,” Aurelian continued reasonably. “But, from what I heard, Perales’ death was more subtle. Anonymous poisoning is not the weapon of religious zealots.”

“No, I suppose it’s not,” Louis conceded. “Still, I want her arrested. Just in case.”

Aurelian bowed. “I will convey the message to Captain Treville in terms that he will understand.”

Louis smiled in relief. “Yes, do so, Sextus.”


End file.
